A Gentle Nudge To The Right Direction And Maybe Some Spicy Cake
by Orlissa92
Summary: Very late Zutara Secret Santa gift for chic bonaerence. Zuko is supposed to attend a wedding and Uncle is scheming and somehow everything ends up being kinda awkward and why did he think that it would be a good idea to ask Katara to be his plus one?


**A/N: Very-very-very belated Zutara Secret Santa gift for chic_bonaerence (I mean, I was late last year, but not this late…) I am so sorry! But I hope you'll still like this story, despite the wait :) Also, it was a little bit strange, but really refreshing for me to write this – most of me previous Zutara stories presented either an already existing, harmonious relationship, or a big declaration with high emotions (at least I hope so…) While this… this is pure awkwardness :D  
Rating: K+  
Word Count: 4142  
Disclaimer: [Please, insert text here that tells you I don't own Avatar: the Last Airbender.]**

"It was a… very nice ceremony," he says, fingers drumming on the surface of the low table in frustration and nervousness, while he feels the droplets of sweat making their way down his neck beneath the stiff, high collar. It's damn hot here. "I mean… yes, it was nice. Don't you think so?"

Katara hardly even looks at him, just plays with the lace trimming on her sleeves.

"Well… yes, I guess. It was pretty. Not that I'd know what is considered 'nice' around here. I've never been to a Fire Nation wedding before."

The drumming stops for a moment as he reaches for his cup.

"Me neither." He blinks once, twice, then corrects himself. "I mean not… in a long time. A very long time. Haven't been to one since before… Ozai took the throne."

She nods.

"I see." She still won't look at him, not really, but scans the crowd around them with bored, maybe a little bit tired eyes. "What was it with the plate? Why did they have to break it? And why did the newlyweds have to clean it up?" She muses, now progressing to playing with her chopsticks.

"Well… er… Sorry, I don't know. It's tradition. It symbolizes that…" He wills the cogwheels in his mind to turn, trying to remember. "It symbolizes that they can work together."

"Oh. I get it. It just didn't make any sense, that's all. Not that any of them would have to clean up after themselves."

He doesn't know if she meant it as a small jab considering the newlyweds' social status, but he hopes she didn't.

"And why did the Sage put away one of the pieces?"

Questions, questions… But at least it's conversation. Sort of.

"He took it so the couple would never split up." He answers her, which earns him a confused gaze. "Don't ask me why it is this way. It doesn't make any sense to me, either," he tries to somehow salvage the situation. She simply nods.

"I get it." And then she's playing with the chopsticks again. So much for conversation.

He really needs a drink.

…And his cup is empty.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asks, already standing up, because Agni be damned, Fire Lord or not, he won't wait until the servant with the pitcher gets to them.

"No, I'm fine," she waves his offer away, finally, finally looking at him, really looking at him, for a moment. "I'm good."

"Oh, great," he reacts to her words, and it's more than a little awkward. He straightens up, cup in hand, wildly gesturing with it (if it had any wine left in it, his robes would be drenched with it by now) towards the servant. "I'll be right back. I'll just… Yes, I'll be right back."

"Okay."

"Okay."

And with that he turns his back to her, already on his way to his much needed drink.

Damn Uncle and damn his crazy ideas.

It all started about a month ago on a nice, ordinary day, filled with reading the reports of the governors from the outer islands and answering to them, when it was necessary. Kind of a boring, grunt job, but at least it didn't involve any yelling, noisy council members and thinly veiled death threats. So, yes, it was a good day.

Up until Uncle Iroh decided that it was time to grace his favorite nephew with his presence.

Thinking back, Zuko should have known that something was up from the very moment his Uncle stepped into his office, humming softly under his breath, being way too jovial than Zuko would have liked, sniffing around the room, seemingly without any evident goal, only observing, touching things.

The things in his office where he was currently working.

Well, was currently trying to work.

"Can I help you in any way, Uncle?" he said finally, putting down the letter he was reading.

"Oh, no, no," smiled the older man as he walked to Zuko's desk and took seat in the chair opposite of his nephew. "I just came in to check in on you. See how diligently you work. How you make sure to read and answer to every letter you get."

Zuko sighed. He was pretty sure there was more to it than that.

"Thank you, Uncle."

"So, I dare to assume you have come across the invitation Minister Tsi Chin has sent you?"

Oh, yes. The catgator was out of the bag.

"Invitation? What kind of invitation?" he asked, already reaching for the still unread letters.

"An invitation for her daughter's wedding," Iroh helped him out. "It was supposed to come in this morning."

Zuko paused in his search and looked at his uncle, frowning a little.

"And how would you know that?" Great. The man was screening his correspondence.

"I have some great friends," Iroh replied, not even missing a beat.

Turning his attention back to the pile, Zuko found the letter in question in a matter of seconds. He broke the seal, unrolled the parchment and started to read – although there wasn't really much to read. The name of the betrothed couple, the date and place of the wedding and a short, respectful message from the minister himself, asking him, if his schedule allowed, of course, to attend.

"Before you'd make a rash decision," Iroh said even before Zuko finished reading, "let me remind you that Minister Tsi Chin is a powerful ally, who's been on your side ever since your coronation. And that an event like this is an excellent opportunity to make the more reluctant members of the nobility accept you. Not to mention that by attending, you can also meet with the Minister's foreign guests – I have heard that some powerful businessmen from the Northern part of the Earth Kingdom will also be there. And, nephew, you ought to spend some time not cooped up in your office. Live a little!"

Zuko put the invitation down and run his finger through his hair, messing up his topknot.

"What you are implying is that I have to attend this wedding."

"You could benefit from it immensely."

Zuko sighed. There was no way he could have argued with his uncle in matters like this. And after all, it was just for one evening. And he even liked Minister Tsi Chin.

"All right, I'll go. I'll even write a reply to the Minister right now," he said, opening a drawer and pulling out an empty piece of paper.

With his promise to go to the event, Zuko expected his uncle to bow a little and then leave (after all, he was sure Iroh had better things to do than babysitting him), but Iroh stayed, still sitting in the chair opposite of him, still looking very content and in control of the situation.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at him.

"What else?" he asked, trying no to sound too harsh.

"Nothing," Iroh shrugged, "I was just wondering if you already knew who you are taking to the wedding with you."

"Taking with me?" he asked a little started, the brush he was holding slipping from his grip, staining the mahogany surface with ink.

"Yes, of course. Don't you think that it would be terribly… inconvenient for a man of your stature to go to a wedding alone?"

Zuko snorted.

"Why couldn't I go to the wedding alone? I can take care of myself," he said, picking up the brush again.

"I am not saying that you couldn't – only that you shouldn't," Iroh explained. "For one thing, tradition suggests–"

"What tradition?" Zuko cut in with the intentions of stopping Uncle from further scheming, but he didn't really succeed.

"That doesn't really matter now." Zuko made a face, stubbornly not looking at his uncle. "What matters," Iroh continued, "is that, in my opinion, it would be wiser if you brought a date to this wonderful event – just to prevent, how could I say it without sounding crude, the attack of some very determined ladies."

Zuko smirked.

"And what if I don't mind that?" Well, he did. Mind it. A little bit. It was hard enough to talk to and not to bore and be charming and all to one girl, let alone who knows how many who would seek his attention at the wedding. But he still was a young man. The idea of pretty girls seeking his attention was… appealing.

"…And their families," Iroh finished, wiping off the smirk off from Zuko's face. "Most of the nobles want to marry you off as it is, now imagine if you gave them a weak point to attack…"

Damn, Uncle was right.

Zuko put his brush down, this time avoiding staining his papers or his tabletop. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"You make a fair point, Uncle. And I hope you have somebody in mind for this task, because Mai's sure as Agni's fire isn't on speaking terms with me right now." Now, this was something he didn't want to discuss.

Iroh just smiled. And Zuko didn't like the way he smiled.

"Well, I do have an idea."

Yeah, that's what Zuko was afraid of.

Iroh leaned closer to him.

"Please correct me if I am wrong, but isn't Miss Katara expected to visit us in what, four weeks?"

Zuko fought down the urge to groan.

"Yes… she's supposed to be here…" he stole a glance at the invitation, re-checking the date, "…three days before the wedding."

Iroh's smile widened.

"Isn't it simply perfect? I am sure she'll be thrilled to attend this wedding with you. I doubt she's ever seen a Fire Nation wedding before, let alone a lavish one, like this is."

Well, Zuko wasn't so sure about that. At least about the thrilled part.

"Uncle, I am not really sure about this…" he started, not really up to starting to explain to his uncle how… awkward this could get between him and her.

Iroh frowned a little.

"And why is that so? As I see it, she'd make a perfect date for you." _Why, oh why did he have to use that word?_ "She's a smart, beautiful, well-raised girl of good family. And as I hear, single. And she's a good friend of yours."

Yes. Friend. Or at least something like that.

"It's not that… Uncle, she's… I mean, she and I… what I want to say is…" he stuttered, placing one elbow on the desktop and angling his body towards his uncle.

"Do you have any apparent reason why you wouldn't want to take Miss Katara to the wedding with you?"

He gulped.

He couldn't list any.

_ And Uncle just smiled._

So, technically, this is the story of how he ended up in front of her door well after sunset, only a handful of hours after she arrived at the palace – he hadn't even had the chance to talk to her yet, unless you count those three sentences they had traded quickly as greeting when she had arrived –, in his night clothes, his palms sweaty, hand raised to knock.

He took a deep breath. Better to get over with it.

He quickly hit the door three times and then waited. Fourteen seconds later – he counted – it opened, revealing a kind of tired looking, dressing gown clad, but still strikingly pretty Katara.

"Oh, Zuko. Hi," she said, looking a little surprised. "I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to talk to you," he said, burying his fingers in his hair, messing it up.

"Okay… Do you want to come in?" she offered, opening her door wilder, which caused her robe stretch over her breast, which he, not that it was his intention, noticed, and found quiet a nice sight (who wouldn't have?), not that he had any plans on voicing his observations.

"N-no, thank you, I'll be quick and then I'll let you rest, you look like you really need it…"

_ Wow, way to go, Zuko._

"Well, okay. So, tell me: what is it that can't wait until tomorrow?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe. Her robe opened a little. Not a lot, just to reveal a small strip of tantalizing skin just under her collarbone, but it was enough to make him hard to focus.

He swallowed.

"Alright, so… I've been invited to a wedding. A minister's daughter's."

"Oh," she offered. "I guess this happens a lot."

"What?"

"You, being asked to attend these sorts of events."

"Well, yes… I mean, no! Not that often," he corrected himself, only slightly feeling like a complete idiot. But he still saw the small smile tugging on her lips.

"I see."

"And, you know, I've been thinking, well, actually, Uncle's been thinking, that I shouldn't go there alone, because of the… er… gold diggers, and since Mai's not an option right now, since… you know, I've though, okay, it was actually Uncle's idea, originally…"

While speaking – well, babbling – he noted the small frown slowly gaining territory over her face, what made him realize what he really was saying.

He took a deep breath and started again.

"Okay, that sounded rude," he admitted first. "What I mean is that would you be my date for the wedding?" He thought about for a moment, then corrected himself once more. "Not date-date, but you know, date, if you'd want to, of course."

She raised one eyebrow.

"A non-date date?"

"Something like that. You know, friends, attending an event together, having a good time, trying to avoid courtiers together." At least it made her smile. "So, what are you saying?"

"I don't really know…" she buries her fingers in her hair, pushing the curls back. "Are Fire Nation wedding pretty?"

"They can be."

"And we'd go as friends." It's not a question.

"Well, that's the plan."

Honestly, if he didn't know better he would have though she looked a little disappointed at hearing his answer.

"Then… okay, I guess," she said, looking at something over his shoulder, then, smiling slightly, she added: "I'd be happy to be your non-date for this momentous occasion."

He couldn't help it: he smiled, too.

"Great!" He took an unconscious half-step towards her. She didn't even flinch. "Well, then I guess I should leave now, let you rest…"

"…Yes, that would be nice, I'm kind of tired…" she said, not even waiting long enough to let him finish his own sentence.

"Yes! Rest. See you in the morning?"

"Yes! Breakfast together?"

"Sure." Another half step. He even leant in a little. "Sweet dreams!" Would be appropriate to peck her cheek?

"You too!" she said quickly, already closing the door, leaving Zuko there, waist bent a little, in his moment of unsure-ness.

But then the door opened again, Katara's upper body shot out, she quickly paced a small, wet kiss on his unscarred cheek, giving out a little smack-sound and then, just as fast as she appeared, the door closed again.

Zuko touched his cheek.

_ Wow._

Alright, so it might have been him who didn't really protest and carried out the whole… thing. And even enjoyed it. Only a little bit.

But now… now he needs a drink. Several, if he wants to be honest.

Who would have thought that a date – a non-date, a pseudo-date, a date as friends, not a date-date, really not – would end up being this awkward? He would have thought they were past that stage when they were uncomfortable in each other's presence.

Well, apparent, they are not.

True, it's a different kind of awkwardness between them now. Not the '_I hate you and I plan to murder you in your sleep_'-kind from Katara and not the '_I am begging, I am groveling, just please accept me_'- kind from him. It's more like being stuck between being friends and – and he'll be completely frank now, no pretenses – being something more. Maybe.

He finds the servant with the pitcher maybe a little bit sooner than he'd have liked – less escape time – but at least the wine is cold. He knocks back a glass of it right away, what might not be the best idea, but he does anyway. He needs to buzz. When he is done he asks for refill. Better to have more of it at hand.

He has to break this awkwardness somehow before he says something stupid. Or accidentally combusts. Whichever happens first.

But how?

He tries to remember – Agni, please help him – all the things Uncle has taught – has tried to teach – him about diplomacy and dealing with people. Dealing with girls, more precisely. If only he had listened…

He takes a little detour to the buffet table – he's not really hungry, the reception dinner being more than fulfilling, but raiding the snacks is a good way of stalling.

He needs… a conversation with her. A real conversation, not sweet talk about nothing with pregnant pauses. Because they are driving him mad. And making him sweaty. And he wants them to be over.

(He wants that effortless togetherness they had… before.)

He takes his time at the buffet table, considering the fancy finger foods piled high on top of it. He doesn't even recognize half of it – he's heard that the chef who was responsible for them is a highly respected Earth Kingdom man, with a knack for trying out and inventing new things. Looking at the array in front of him, Zuko ponders if this said chef has worked for King Bumi before. He wouldn't be surprised if he has.

After deciding against half a dozen little treats (he wouldn't even dare to touch some of them), his eyes finally settle on something. His lips tug into a small smile.

Three of four could fit into his palm of the tiny, bite-sized, red cream covered cakes – he remembers having them, or at least something very familiar to them, back then when his mother was still around. Ursa would treat him with them if he was being good, the cakes being traditional food on the island his mother was from. Of course, they got off the menu was her mother disappeared. But still, he remembers loving them as a child.

He can only hope that Katara would like them as well. If she did, that would serve as a good (real) conversation starter. Well, at least a better one than "the ceremony was nice".

He grabs a plate and piles almost a dozen of the little cakes on it, then starts walking back to their table, hoping that Katara didn't left to dance with some annoying courtier (if she did, he'd feel obliged to exile the bastard), while trying to compose what he is going to say once he gets there in his head.

_ "Here, Katara, try some of this! You're gonna love this!"_

_ "It's something my mother and I would share when I was a child. I'd happy if you tried some."_

_ "I have some fond memories with these cakes, and I have some with you, too, and also, I am rather fond of you, so I'd like you to try some."_

(Okay, the last one is bad. And cheesy. But mostly bad.)

Katara is still sitting where he left her minutes ago (thankfully), swaying softly to the music coming from the direction of the dance floor, her eyes skimming over the crowd. When he finally gets to her, sinking back to his seat he clears his throat to get her attention, but, of course, as she turns to him, with her blue orbs on full power, he forgets his every well-crafted (or not so well-crafted) line.

"Er…" he starts, color rising to his cheeks. "Want some?"

_ Suave, Zuko, very suave._

She shrugs a little – it's cute, he notes.

'Yeah, sure, thanks," she says, picking up a tiny cake from the plate and popping it into her mouth. He sits still, waiting for her reaction – closing eyes, little smile, maybe even a small moan – but he gets none of that.

Because the next moment she spits it out, accompanied by such a colorful curse (about half of which is completely new to him) that would make even the most foul-mouthed Fire Nation sailor blush.

He tries not to feel offended.

"This is terrible!" she says finally when she gets every little crumb out of her mouth.

"Well, just to let you know," he starts, his voice rising despite his best efforts, "that it was my favorite snack as a child."

He might as well could be speaking to a wall, because Katara just goes on, as if she didn't even hear him.

"I get that you Fire Nation folk like spicy food…" she reaches for her cup and takes a long gulp, "…but why, oh why, do you have to make even your desserts spicy?"

This gets Zuko's attention.

"Spicy?"

"Hot as hell."

"But it's supposed to be sweet!" he exclaims.

"Well, it's not," she states, wiping her lips in her napkin, her brows furrowing. "Try it yourself if you don't believe me."

He stares into her eyes, seeing not only the need to have him believe her, but some teasing and maybe even a little challenge.

_ I dare you to do it._

He smirks. Oh, he dares.

He pops one of the cakes into his mouth, chews on it once, twice, then… the flavor hits his tongue.

It really is hot. Very hot. He has gotten used to spicy food over the years, but this challenges even him.

But no way he is going to spit it out – no, he braces himself, forces his jaws to keep moving, forces his lips to smile – even though the spiciness is making his eyes water and his nose run – and says:

"I don't know what your problem is," his voice is muffled by his still full mouth, "It's really… tasty." He swallows, collecting all his might, the treat burning his throat. "Really."

Katara is looking at him, her gaze steady, then the corners of her mouth twitch, the edges of her eyes crinkle and she bursts out laughing.

"What?" he asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin, his own voice wavering with suppressed laughter.

"It's just… you should have seen you face!" she giggles from behind her hand, her sleeve slipping back, uncovering the soft skin of her wrist. "It was just so hilarious. I haven't seen anything so funny since…" she thinks.

"Since when?" he inquires, tossing the napkin away and lifting his goblet the wash the taste away. "Since when, Katara?"

"Since Sokka drank cactus juice, I guess."

He spits his drink out, staining the tablecloth. Katara only laughs harder.

"He did what?!"

Katara stops for a moment.

"I haven't told you about that time yet?" she seems really startled by the fact that she hasn't shared this story with him yet.

"No," he shakes his head, "but I would love to hear about it."

He would swear that her eyes actually sparkle at his words.

"Okay, so, it happened before we arrived at Ba Sing Se for the first time. We got stranded in the desert and Appa was missing…" she dives into the story, enjoying his undivided attention.

And so, the awkwardness between them is completely forgotten.

A little while later Iroh, standing on the porch framing the garden where the reception is held, watches the two teenagers laughing and dancing – well, at least trying to dance. None of them seem to know the steps, not that it seems to stop them from enjoying themselves. They are moving around each other, his, hands on hips and shoulders, maybe being a little bit closer than it would be appropriate, nephew's outer robe shed, Katara's hair escaping from the her do. And they are laughing and grinning and maybe even giggling, and Iroh can't tell whether it is the alcohol they have consumed or something else…?

"I am not happy to admit it, but it seems like you were right," he hears from his right, as Piandao steps up right next to him.

"When am I not?" he smiles, subtly offering his open palm to his old friend. "I told you they only needed a little nudge to the right direction."

Accompanied by a sigh, Piandao drops a small paunch – filled with coins, by the sounds of it – into Iroh's palm, what disappears under his sleeve almost immediately.

"That you did," the sword master acknowledges with a nod, then smiling slightly, he adds, "Please, remind me in the future not to bet against you."

"No? But I've thought that you would be interested in a little double or nothing…"

"Double or nothing?"

"Yes, maybe a chance to win back your money."

"And what would be the subject of the bet?"

"You see, I think these two will be engaged before the year's end…"

**A/N: I couldn't help but put a little Hungarian wedding tradition into the story – the plate breaking. It usually happens right before the reception starts. The "****vőfély****", a kind of ceremony master, who presents all the courses and other games during the reception, breaks a plate in front of the bride and groom, then hands a sweep to the bride and a dustpan to the groom – then, they are expected to work together and clean the broken pieces up, showing that they can work together. But before they could start, the vőfély pockets one of the pieces, telling that the marriage should end when the plate becomes whole again – what can never happen, since he has a piece of it. It's also a tradition to make the newlyweds' task harder by the guests kicking the pieces away and pocketing a few of them themselves :)**


End file.
